


The Really, Really True Origins of Darkwing Duck

by Flyvarna



Series: The Untold Tales of Darkwing Duck [1]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 09:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyvarna/pseuds/Flyvarna
Summary: And that's the first story down.  I'd forgotten how much I based the fictional college on the real-life one I grew up near, which I'm currently attending.  If I ever had to re-do this fic rather than cross-post it, I'd base it a bit more off my experiences, but hey, it was my first fic ever posted.  It's funny to look back on it and my later ones and see how far I've come.





	1. Chapter 1

The Really, Really True Origins of Darkwing Duck

Prologue

"So, who was this guy again?" The famous book editor wondered out loud. "All my secretary said was that he was a TV star, but I don't recall the name."

His companion, the lawyer, glanced at him over his shoulder, as they got into the limo.

"That's probably because you're not big on TV shows, especially old cartoons. Let's see, there was this old Disney cartoon in the early nineties called 'Darkwing Duck.' It was a spoof on the old superhero shows, where all the people in that world were talking, anthropomorphic, animals. It was pretty popular, back in the day..."

"Wait a second, he's a cartoon character?! I thought the name sounded strange, but you're acting like he's real!"

"It's a bit of a weird story," the lawyer remarked. "What happened was the show's writers were thinking of doing a story where Darkwing Duck appeared in the real world. While they were discussing how the episode should go, Bam! He appeared, just like that. And what was even freakier, his story of coming to our world was the same as what the writers were planning. He eventually got back to his home world, of course. That bit went the way the writers had planned it, but Disney covered the whole incident up. They totally changed most of the episode, so that nobody would get suspicious, but they said nothing about his actual visit."

The editor's jaw dropped. He couldn't think of anything to say, but his imagination suddenly went wild with the implications of that. 

"H-Have there been any other incidents like that one? And was it just Darkwing Duck, or could we bring any character from any series?"

"There have been one or two incidents, but they were only characters from that show. Although it would be pretty darn neat to have the original Optimus Prime hanging around. Anyways, we discovered that we could bring Darkwing Duck into our world by writing a plot about it in the television show, but we could never keep him here. After the plot got resolved, he'd go back to his world. It's kinda like that old "Quantum Leap" show. And since it's a cartoon show, no time ever seemed to pass for them over there. Ah, here we are."

The limo pulled up to a very tall building and a chauffeur pulled the door open for the two men to exit. They moved through the lobby and entered the nearest elevator. Once inside, the conversation resumed.

"The Disney people didn't bring him here that often, because they were afraid of disrupting things too much. About three years after the show first aired, Disney stopped making new episodes, because they felt that those cartoons were getting too old."

"Oh." The editor said. "Out of curiosity, what's this, uh, episode's plot?"

"He's trying to write the book while all kinds of things go wrong. Don't worry, the episode ends with him getting the book safely done."

Something occurred to the editor. "So, why bring him back now? Couldn't you have done this when the show was still running?"

"The fanbase wasn't big enough for the Disney people, but now things have changed. The whole obsession with Retro things these days, and the fact that the kids that grew up on the show grew up. And some of them became successful businessmen that decided that the stuff Disney's running today just doesn't compare to the good old days, and requested us to do this. You have to admit, they do kinda have a point. Most of Disney's stuff these days is catered towards girls. They need something more action-y for boys that will please the older fans, too. This may be just what they need..."

The elevator dinged, and opened. The men walked out and into a fairly good-sized conference room. The editor noticed that there was one other person in the room, then he stopped and stared. The guy was a cartoon character, literally. Just like the characters from that old "Roger Rabbit" movie, but this was real! Really there, sitting in one of the chairs, playing some hand-held game system. The editor couldn't recognize the system, it probably came from the cartoon world. Then the duck looked up, laughed awkwardly, and stowed the video game into his cape somewhere.

"Wha-? Oh, Heh heh. Greetings, human people."

"Hello, mister Duck." The lawyer said. "How're you doing? I'm Marvin Suggs, and this is my associate, Lewis Kazagger. He's a big book editor in this world."

"Charmed, I'm sure." The Duck said, as he rose to shake their hands, which felt truly weird for the editor. The Duck's hands were covered in feathers. It was kind of like shaking hands with a parakeet.

"I haven't been here for a while," the Duck continued. "Not since they cancelled my show. What's the occasion?"

"Well, you might not know it, but it's been over ten years since your show, and the kids that grew up watching your show, well, grew up. Some of them became very rich, and are now trying to bring your show back."

"What?!" The Duck sputtered. "They are? If there's anything I can do to help, name it. Especially if it involves a profit for me. Unlike last time."

"The one that's offering all the money wants a book on your first days as Darkwing, kinda like the way they rebooted the Batman and James Bond franchises. Y'know, answer all the unanswered questions like where did the name come from? Or, how you first got involved with SHUSH. He wants the book from the Duck's beak, so to speak."

"Very funny," the Duck growled.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. Anyways, like I said, these are very big fans, and have seen every episode, and they know that you have a tendency to...exaggerate some of your heroics."

"I _never_ exaggerate."

There was an awkward pause.

"...Okay, maybe once or twice, but it's just for the drama."

"I hate to tell you this, mister Duck, but your series isn't a drama, it's a comedy-action cartoon. So, here's the deal. We want you to write the book, and we want you to be honest in it. We'll pay you ten thousand up front. When you're done writing, we'll take it to the guys that wrote your series and run it by them. If they approve, you get an extra twenty thousand, plus the royalties from the book sales, but if they don't approve then we scrap your writing and hire a ghostwriter."

The Duck winced. "Ouch. So, I really have to stick to my story? But there are parts where it gets...humiliating, and even boring."

"We want the straight truth. So far, it's got the working title of 'The Really, Really, honest-to-goodness true origins of Darkwing Duck.' Look at it this way, even if you don't make it past the writers, you can always post it on one of those fanfiction sites on the internet. That'll be some good publicity for you."

The room was quiet for a moment or two, then the Duck spoke up again.

"So, all I have to do is write it? No deadlines, no 'or elses'?" 

"All you have to do is write it. There's no deadline, but the sooner the book is done, the sooner you'll get paid, and the sooner your series will have a chance to come back."

"Okay, it's a deal," the Duck said. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Greetings, loyal fans! (I hope that didn't sound too pretentious.)

What you're now holding is a chronicle of the earliest days of yours truly, Darkwing Duck! It's such a shame that this book will only be distributed in the human world, not my own, but then there are some secrets that this caped crusader must keep from the good citizens of St. Canard, namely my secret identity as Drake Mallard. 

I'm sure that the astute folks that actually watched my show know that there was supposedly an episode where my daughter and I traveled back in time and met my past self. Well, suffice it to say, I didn't remember that incident too well until I went back in time. I believe it was something to do with a breakout of flamingo pox a few days afterwards. That I remember all too well. Trust me, you don't want to hear about it.

Anyways, the actual origin of my heroic alter ego had actually already been shown in the TV show, one of the later episodes or so I'm told. But what you probably don't know is that, at the time, I thought it was a once-only thing. My fifteen minutes in the spotlight, as it were. I didn't even once think that the heroic thing could become my whole career.

Boy, was I wrong!

So, the actual origin of my career as resident superhero started some six months after the incident at my prom, when I was about eighteen and a half. By then, I had just started going to college. Ahh, yes, good old Follicle University. I was unpacking some of the stuff I had brought from home, and I found out that my loving family, possibly out of nostalgia, and partly to clear out some of the clutter in my old room, had sent me a few of my old issues of the "Super Pig" comic. Wow, that book brought back some memories. All those days pretending to be a superhero, the times spent attempting to solve cases, which usually ended up in utter failure, and the one time where I had, for one brief moment, actually been a hero myself...

I was still thinking of those comic books the next day as I left my dorm room and went to my job. Back then, I made enough money to survive by working in my first job at a supermarket, as a bagger. It taught me several skills I still use to this very day. For instance, the fine art of "Juggling too many things without dropping anything," the skill of "Dodging carriages in the parking lot which customers are too lazy to just put back, so they just leave them in the middle of the road, or even worse, just fling them at you..."

And the most horrible, terrifying, endurance test of all: the test of "Enduring too much Christmas Muzak." That one has saved my sanity on several occasions, more specifically, when a certain daughter of mine decides she wants to be a rock star. 

But I'm digressing right now. You wanted to know how I got this whole thing started, here's how.

It was a pleasant enough morning at the Quack-E-Mart. As usual, the place was hopelessly crowded with ceaseless crowds of customers trying to make it home in time for the latest episode of "Empty Nest."

I was at register 9, cramming, er, I mean ever so delicately placing cans of Cuckoo Cola into someone's carriage when it happened. There was a large display of candy bars not too far from where I was. A felonious and fat felon grabbed one, and started furtively making his way to the exit, without going through the registers first.

"Steal from my store?" I growled under my breath. "Not on my watch!"

And then I yelled at the top of my lungs, "Hold it right there, shoplifter!"

The porky perpetrator decided to make a run for it. He started sprinting for the exit door. Someone had to stop him. It was all an impulse, really. I grabbed the nearest thing to hand, a can of Cuckoo Cola, and hurled it at him. The can caught him right in the small of his back, sending him crashing into the wall next to the door. For one glorious moment, I was elated. I'd done it! The Quack-E-Mart was safe once again.

...And then the laws of Physics, combined with a healthy dose of Murphy's Law, caught up to me. The can of cola suddenly burst, then started rocketing all over the place, spraying everyone with soda. It flew into the "Register 9" sign, bounced off the display of exercising equipment, then finally crashed into the large arrangement of cans of gravy which were stacked over by where I was standing. I had a lovely view of the cans before they all crashed down on me. It took me a few seconds to pull enough cans off me so I could sit up. That's when I noticed that everyone was glaring at me.

"Oops," I said.

"What were you thinking, Mr. Mallard?" My boss demanded.

"What was I thinking?! The guy was shoplifting. If I hadn't stopped him, he'd have gotten away!" I snapped. Of all the things to happen to me. First everyone was acting like it was my fault the can had exploded, and now my Boss calling me into his office. It was not a good day.

"Mr. Mallard, that candy bar cost 60 cents. All those cans you busted cost a dollar apiece. You cost us more than that one shoplifter did! Do you even know what the store's procedure for shoplifters is?"

"Yeah, yeah...let the security people handle it, try and get a good look at the guy, so you'll remember him later, then call the police."

"So, why didn't you do that?"

"Because, unlike the security people, I had a chance to get him _before_ he got out of the store. You guys are always looking for people who take the initiative, right?"

"There's a fine line between initiative and sheer recklessness, Mr. Mallard. People could've been hurt with that stunt you pulled. This store has no place for people like you. You are fired, Mr. Mallard."

Fired? For stopping the bad guy? Yeah, the Quack-E-Mart was like that. I was really and justifiably upset.

"Yeah? Well I quit! You clearly need someone who had the guts to stop a shoplifter!" And I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me. And it wasn't even noon, yet.

Follicle University, the college I'd started to attend a month before, was pretty much your average college. It was also the biggest college in the state, and as a result it was very crowded. Crowds of students went to their classes every morning, some of them taking their lives into their own hands by darting in front of cars at the last possible second. This made for a lot of traffic jams. I myself took the bus to work and back every day. Oh, I knew how to drive by then, but since 1. I didn't have a car, and 2. The parking lots were as packed as the classrooms were, I took the bus almost everywhere. As I headed back to my dorm room in one, I couldn't help feeling like a sardine, especially when the bus stopped by the gym and all the big guys got on.

I managed to peel my way off the bus at my stop, only to discover that I'd been flattened by the crowd. Well, that was no big deal. I popped myself back into shape and headed for Gorton Dorm. I walked into the building, intending to take the elevator up to my room, but that's when I saw that some of my fellow students were already on the elevator, and the doors were closing.

"Wait for me! Hold that elevator!" I yelled, breaking into a sprint, but it was no use. As the doors closed inches away from my fingers, my so-called "Peers" on the elevator took the time to mock me.

"Bye-bye," "See you, loser," "Aw, so close!" And the doors shut.

Unable to stop myself in time, I careened into the now-closed elevator doors.

"Grr," I growled, as I pulled myself free.

"Aw, that was rude," someone said from behind me.

"You got that right," I agreed. Then I saw who it was I was agreeing with.

Milton Thacklethwait, the resident uber-nerd. He and his friends were so geeky, they could recite all the dialogue from every episode of "Star Duck." To them, pie wasn't a delicious food, it was some very long number. They often hung out in the lounge playing board games that lasted nearly a week at a time. They were the kind of people that were nerdy enough that nobody wanted to associate with, least of all me. Well, I'll admit I was a little geeky back in those days, but even at that time, I didn't want to admit it.

"Oh, hi Milton. Listen, I..."

"I know how you feel, Drake. Those people have no respect. Me and my friends are taking a stand against this sort of thing. We're trying to get the administration to make everybody take a mandatory class on respecting your fellow duck."

"That's, uh, wonderful, Milton. Listen, I really need to move. I need to go get my books for my next class."

Never mind that my next class wasn't for another four hours, I just wanted to get away from Milton. I quickly turned before he could say anything else and made a break for the stairs, before anyone else saw me talking to him.

My dorm room was on the 11th floor. It could've been worse, Gorton actually had 18 floors. Still, that was 11 floors of stairs. By the time I'd reached my floor, I was literally crawling.

"Ma-made it," I gasped. Why did I always have to just miss the elevator? I opened the door to my dorm room, and immediately found a football lodged in my mouth.

"Nice catch, man! Hey, wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

Alphonse "Crash" Auburn, was the "Big thickwit on Campus," as well as starting quarterback for the Follicle U. Contours. AKA Jock Extremo, Ladies' Man, and my roommate. It was a match made where the sun don't shine. We didn't interact much. Crash was usually out dating an endless stream of girlfriends, so I only saw him about once a day. I don't think he even knew my name. In fact, I'm a bit surprised he knew that I worked.

"Nah, I quit. The boss and I didn't get along," I sighed as I spat out the football. "And now I need a new one. Hey, Crash, old buddy, you have any clue where I could get a new job?"

"Well, the basketball coach was just saying he could use a new janitor, maybe you could ask him. I'd help you, but I got a big game coming up, so I need to practice."

"Well, good luck with that, Crash. I'm going to go look up the, um, Coach."

The Follicle University Basketball coach, or Coach Kazinscki to give him a proper name. Also known as "Coach Kaz" for short, was to be found in the university's big sports' venue, the Mufflers Center. It was out by the edge of campus, over by the track and field fields. The basketball team was famous for having the longest streak of home wins in the country, a feat that everybody attributed to Coach Kaz's unique abilities. Of course, that hadn't really affected me or anything until I needed a way to make money. When I met Coach Kaz, I begged, er, I mean, persistently but nicely asked for a job. 

"Awright, awright, I'll give you a job," he said as he glared down at me. "You're the new janitor. Now, will you get off of my leg?! Yeesh!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank yo..."

"Yeah whatever. Tell those guys practicing over there that they can go now, then pick up the basketballs and put them over in that closet there."

"Sure thing," I said, stifling the urge to whoop with delight. I had a job again! I wouldn't have to ask my parents for money!

The "Guys" were three fellows who looked, to me anyways, like they were walking on stilts. They were, as the phrase goes, "Shooting hoops" at the other end of the gym.

"Hey, you guys," I told them. "Coach says you can go now."

"Oh, we can't go yet," one of them said. "There's still one we haven't played with yet." 

And with that, he grabbed me, crunched me into a ball, and then threw me through the hoop.  
I'm not actually sure how long they spent playing, uh, ball with me. The next thing I remember is lying on the gym floor.

"Of all the lousy..." I grumbled, as I pulled myself up. "They have basketballs for this, they don't need to treat me like that, too. What was I supposed to be doing? Oh yeah, put the basketballs away."

I sighed as I began searching for the basketballs. So much for an easy job! As I finished the job, I felt my stomach growling. What time was it, anyways? I spared a peek at my watch.

"Four O’clock?! _I'm late!_ " And I hadn't even had time to get my books! I streaked out of the gym and off to Horter Hall for my English lecture. 

Do you have any idea how awkward it is to walk in on a lecture after it's started? Yeah, it was that bad. I immediately felt all eyes on me as I tried to sneak to my seat.

"Er, Heh heh, don't mind me, folks, I'm just a bit late," I said, sitting down.

The professor cleared his throat pointedly. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the deadline for choosing your majors is coming up next month. The majors, as I'm sure you all know, are vitally important, especially after you graduate. I'd recommend that everyone pick a major based on what you want to do with your life."

I rolled my eyes. The truth was that I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life, and I certainly didn't want to be reminded about it constantly. Most likely I was indecisive because all the really cushy jobs, like heir to a big company or something, were already taken.

After that, the lecture proceeded as usual. The professor droned about stuff, while I took advantage of the big crowd to rest my eyes a bit. Well, it had been a long day, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

The next three weeks passed relatively uneventfully. In between classes, I reported in for my new job. The "Guys" on the Basketball team gave me the same charming "Treatment" I'd received on the first day, and once I'd recovered from being dribbled and shot, I would do my job of cleaning the place up.

And then came the break that changed the routine. And my life.

"Awright, you weenies!" Coach Kaz bellowed. "We got that big game against St. Canard U. tomorrow. You're gonna practice like you never practiced before. We're using the lucky ball this time!"

For some reason, the basketball players seemed to think this was funny. They all laughed loudly.

"Oh, an inside joke." I said, and went back to polishing the seats. I didn't get it, but then this was me, I couldn't tell the difference between a quarter and a half. I could tell one thing, though. St. Canard University was the college across town, and they were the self-proclaimed rivals to Follicle U. Until I'd started working for Coach Kaz, I hadn't cared who was rivals with who, but now that I was more involved with a sport, I'd been seeing a lot of pro-Follicle, and anti-St. Canard propaganda and stuff. I still didn't care much, but I knew more about it than I had before.

The basketball practice pretty much went on as usual, but there was one thing that caught my eye. Instead of watching the practice like he always did, Coach Kaz brought a small TV over to the little table he used for paperwork. He then pulled an apparatus that looked like a joystick for a video game system out of his coat, and apparently started playing a video game. I got curious and slipped behind the front row seats, getting close enough to see that the "video game" was just a dot on the screen, which Coach Kaz was moving around via the joystick.

"Geez, what a boring game," I muttered, and went back to cleaning the seats.

Thanks to the upcoming game, Coach Kaz decided to see his players off to the showers. Right after telling me to stop goofing off and to get back to work. I sighed, and took out the mop to start cleaning the floor.

"Hey, Drake!" 

I looked up to see who it was, and flinched. Milton Thacklethwait. It figured.

"Milton?" I asked. "What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to know if you were interested in joining me and my friends tonight for a trivia contest."

That was precisely the last thing I wanted to do. Trivia really isn't my thing, especially nerd trivia. And what was worse, hanging out with those nerds. That would make my coolness factor drop faster than a bullet.

"Sorry, Milt. I can't make it. I have, uh, basketball practice."

"Wait, you're on the basketball team, Drake? I thought you were the janitor. No offense, but you don't seem like the basketball type."

"Sure, I'm the basketball type," I lied. "In fact, when I'm not the janitor, Coach Kaz uses me as the, um, Backup-Backup, er, backup. Just in case the rest of the team isn't able to make it. Here, I'll show you."

I grabbed the nearest basketball from Coach Kaz's table, and began dribbling it.

"Okay, Drake. Maybe you can join us next week," Milton said as he turned to go.

"Yeah, absolutely, Milt. Absolutely,” I began. As Milton left, I finished the sentence under my breath. "... _Not_."

Fortunately for my dignity, Milton was out of sight before things started going wrong for me. The ball I'd been dribbling escaped my hands, bounced off one of the seats, and smacked me directly in the head, sending me sprawling on the floor.

"Oof," I groaned. I picked myself up and looked to see where the ball had gone. It had only rolled a few feet away, but that was when I noticed something was amiss. Namely the ball's completeness.

"What the-? I broke it?! But, I didn't dribble it _that_ hard, at least not as hard as they dribbled me. Hold the phone here!"

The ball was literally split in half. As I got closer, I could see some kind of small machine in it.

"Why would a basketball have some weird gizmo inside it? Wait a minute! That so-called 'video game!’ Follicle U. hasn't lost a home game in years. And isn't this their alleged 'lucky ball?' Of course! He was using a remote to remotely control the ball! They've been cheating all this time..."

I scooped up the fake "Ball." That was when I heard footsteps heading in this direction.

"Yikes!" I very quickly snapped the halves of the ball together, slipped the ball back to the table, then sneaked my way back to my mop and went back to cleaning before Coach Kaz came in.

"Hiya, coach!" I said, in an attempt at innocence. It apparently worked, because Coach Kaz grunted a response, and picked up the pernicious plaything before heading off, probably in the direction of his office.

"Now what?" I asked.

The answer still hadn't come to me a day later, after I'd finished my classes, and as I was doing my job of mopping the front hallway of the Mufflers Center in preparation for the big game.

Should I do something to expose the basketball team's apparent cheating? Well, if I charged right in and accused Coach Kaz of cheating, that would probably be the end of my job, if not my education. Something I kind of needed, right now. So, that was out. I could try telling someone who presumably held authority over Coach Kaz, like the cops or the Dean, but how was I to know they weren't in on this? If I told them, I could very well get the same results as if I confronted Coach Kaz directly. Maybe if I did what I'd done in high school, disguised myself somehow and took down the cheaters my own way, nobody would recognize me, then I wouldn't have to worry about being fired, and I could get Coach Kaz arrested for cheating.

But, what was I saying? This was me here. Drake the dweeb, the guy who had only done something heroic once, and had gotten lucky. Besides, why should I do anything about all this? I mean, it wasn't like I was actually interested in sports, and this could cost me my job, or worse. I'd have to go get some actual proof of the team's cheating, and I didn't think Coach Kaz would part with that too easily.

Then again, neither Coach Kaz nor the basketball players were all that pleasant to me. If I could pull this off, I wouldn't have to worry about them shooting me again. I would be bringing justice down on their heads like a pile of bricks, just like the characters in the comic books I'd used to read, like I'd done that time in high school, and it would feel so good to see the looks on their faces when that justice started with the guy they'd thought was only good for cleaning floors and shooting practice...

The first thing I did was get myself to the mall and buy one of those hand-held tape recorders. Y'know, the kind that records what you say? I thought it would be handy to bring along just in case I needed any evidence besides the fake basketball and the remote control. Besides, it looked cool. The recorder actually cost me most of the week's paycheck, but what the hey? I could always live on ramen noodles and tap water for the rest of the week.

And then I needed a cunning disguise, so that nobody would recognize me. With the game only a couple of hours away, I didn't have time to be get some fancy costume like the last time. Plus, it was the wrong time of year for Halloween costumes, so I had to improvise. So, I "Borrowed" one of Crash's baseball caps. The cap, like most of the baseball caps in the university, had the Follicle U. logo printed on it, it was one in a million. Nobody would be able to figure out whose it was. Then, I just grabbed one of my winter coats that I hadn't had time to unpack yet, let alone wear. Nobody from the university would know it. And the final touch, the mask. I took an old sock, cut it in half, then put eyeholes in it, then put it on.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and cringed. I didn't exactly look too dashing, did I? Well, it would do the job. Like I said, I didn't have time to find something better.

The big game was held over in the Mufflers Center, so it was just a matter of getting there without being seen. Fortunately, most of my basketball-loving peers were already at the game, so there was slightly less of a chance of someone seeing me. Just in case, however, I "Borrowed" the hydrangea bush outside of Gorton Dorm to sneak around. Using the bush, I managed to make it up to the Mufflers Center without anyone seeing me. Now, all I had to do was get inside. I couldn't just use the front entrance. I sighed.

"I guess I'm going to have to use a window, or something."

The Mufflers Center didn't have much by way of windows. The only first-story windows were on the front of the building, which meant that I couldn't use them without being seen. The back of the building had some windows for the offices and stuff, but they were all on the second floor and higher. As I sneaked my bush around the back, I attempted to think of a way in that did NOT involve scaling straight up a brick wall. Unfortunately, I couldn't think of a better route, but I could think of a better way. The track and field team practiced in the field next to the Mufflers Center, and they had left some of their equipment nearby. More specifically, the pole vaulting equipment.  
So, I stood in front of one open, but dark, window with a pole in my hand and started my first real high-flying stunt.

Which left me a pancaked duck about a foot to the left of the window, because my aim was just a teeny bit off. Well, it was close enough that I could reach the window, and get in. You could even say that I _meant_ to do that.

Now, it was time to find Coach Kaz's office, and get my hands on some evidence that the basketball team was cheating.

There wasn't anybody in Coach Kaz's office, which I took as a sign that my luck was improving. The room was filled with display cases packed full of trophies, I don't think there was one square foot of wall that wasn't covered with pictures of Coach Kaz with various basketball players, or certificates of some kind or another. There was a desk and some chairs towards the other end of the room, and on that desk I could see the remote control and the fake basketball. I picked them up.

"Now, all I have to do is give these to the police..."

And that's when I heard footsteps and voices approaching, one of which was Coach Kaz's.

" _Yikes!_ " I gulped, dropping the ball back on the desk. In a panic, I dashed behind the nearest trophy display case. I didn't notice then that I was still holding the remote. That's when the door opened.

"...And the win is in the bag," Coach Kaz said, as he ushered a companion in. I took a quick peek out from behind the display case and recognized the other guy as the dean of students. This scandalous crime clearly went deeper than the rank and file! I suddenly realized that this was the perfect opportunity to gather evidence, and quietly pressed the "record" button on my tape recorder.

"Here's the ball," Coach Kaz said, "But where'd the remote go? How am I supposed to make my team win if I can't control the ball?"

The remote? Oh, crud! I was still holding the remote!

"Maybe one of the players took it," Dean Cathartes suggested.

"I always try to keep it hidden so that nobody will find it. Maybe I hid it somewhere?"

I sneaked another peek out from behind the display case. Both men now had their backs to me, Coach Kaz was rooting through a box of what looked like team jerseys. I decided that I would take the chance, and sidled out from behind the display case long enough to slip the remote onto the chair behind the desk, then made it back to my hiding place before either of them noticed.

"What was that?" Coach Kaz asked.

Okay, maybe I wasn't quite as unnoticed as I'd thought.

"What was what?"  
"I could've sworn I saw something move. Over here."

Coach Kaz was now walking over to my hiding place. I gulped, and got ready to run. Just as I'd resigned myself to fleeing, fate intervened.

"Wait a minute," the Dean said. "Here's the remote. It was on your chair all along."

Coach Kaz turned away from my hiding place.

"Really? Oh, good. I was starting to get worried there. For a moment, I thought somebody'd stolen it. This would've been the _worst_ time for us to lose."

They both laughed as they turned and left the room. I stepped out from my hiding place, and pressed the "Stop" button on my recorder.

"Who's laughing now?" I growled out loud, and then I got an idea. I could take the ball to the cops and have done with, but that wouldn't humiliate the basketball people nearly as much as broadcasting it to the whole school...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

I had to sneak around a little more, partly so that nobody'd notice my, uh, clever disguise, and partly because I hadn't been around this part of the building much. By the time I found the commentator's booth, the game was already well underway, judging by all the cheering I heard. I opened the door to the booth a crack and listened to the announcers inside talking for a minute.

"...And Zenaida passes to Ross. What a game! The Contours are making the Harlequins look like total idiots! Now-what the?! Who are you?"

I'd been trying to come up with something cool to say, but my mind was a total blank. Why couldn't I just ignore them? I needed a nifty phrase to sound like I knew what I was doing, but all I could think of was how terrified I was. Wait, terror...

"Who am I? I am the terror of Follicle University," I said. "Uh...d-don't mind me, citizens. I'm just here to pursue some justice. Now, would either of you two fellows know where I can play a tape?"

"Er, right there," one of them said. "But, you might want to try again another time. We're kind of on live."

"I know, thanks," I told him, and put the tape from the recorder in.

For a moment, all I could think of was that there was no way this was going to work. Machines and I usually didn't get along too well, for all I knew I'd put it on the wrong side or something...

And then, miraculously, it worked. The earlier conversation between Coach Kaz and the Dean began playing over the loudspeaker.

"...Here's the ball, but, where'd the remote go? How am I supposed to make my team win if I can't control the ball?"

I moved over to the window to see what was going on out on the court. You could've heard a pin drop out there. All the players had stopped dead in their tracks, the audience had stopped cheering, and now everyone was sitting there with their jaws dropped.

"Maybe one of the players took it," the Dean's voice echoed around the room.

The Dean was now a lovely shade of egg white. The people around him were talking, I think asking him what was going on, but he just kept shaking his head.

"I always try to keep it hidden, so nobody will find it. Maybe I hid it somewhere?"

The Follicle U. player who held the ball suddenly dropped it on the floor. It fell with an extremely loud "Thunk" which echoed in the relative silence, and as it hit the floor, the fake ball broke open, just as it had the other day. Talk about adding icing to the cake! I could see Coach Kaz standing on the sidelines, looking like he was about to explode. A couple of grim-faced cops edged their way out of the stands. One of them grabbed Coach Kaz's hands and began cuffing them, the other one walked over to pick up the halves of the fake "ball." 

"...I was starting to get worried there. For a moment, I thought somebody'd stolen it. This would've been the worst..."

There was a sudden "click" behind me, and Coach Kaz's recorded voice stopped. I turned around to see one of the commentators ejecting the tape I'd put in, then he started pulling the ribbon out of it.

"Wait, what're you doing?!" I demanded.

"You have a lot of nerve blowing Coach Kaz's cover like that," the guy said.

"Yeah, now we have to go back to losing all our home games again," the other one agreed. "And in front of those lousy Harlequins, too. I'll tear you limb from limb for this!"

I gulped. "Whatever happened to gratitude for exposing a cheater?" I asked.

"Real people don't like losing," the first one growled, as they both began to advance on me.

I frantically searched my mind for a way out of this situation. I couldn't beat them up or anything, in those days I couldn't even beat my way out of a paper bag. Wait, beat. I got an idea. I somehow ducked under a blow from the one on the left, then scrambled to the broadcasting booth behind me and started hitting buttons at random.

"Don't touch that!" One of those guys said, and then the air was filled with the dulcet strains of feedback noise. We all clapped our hands to our ears, and I took advantage of the sound, moving faster than the commentators to get out of there.

The hall outside was filled with students, and for one brief moment I hoped they were there to cheer me on. That hope died, as I realized I was stuck in the middle of a gigantic brawl.

It wasn't until later that I found out what was really happening. The die-hard Coach Kaz fans who shared the same attitude as the commentators I'd just escaped and the hotheads from St. Canard U., who were livid at being cheated all these years, were taking their pent-up aggressions out on each other. And I was stuck in the middle of it all.

I took a deep breath and began running full-tilt through the crowd. Luckily, I think they were too occupied with beating the living whey out of each other to notice me, although I did have a couple of close calls. I managed to make it to one of the exits without being noticed, only to find out that the riot had spread outside, too. I shuddered, pulled my hat down over my eyes, and got back to getting through the crowd. The nearest non-athletic building would be Worcestershire dining hall. With any luck, I could slip into a broom closet or something and ditch my disguise there, then get back to my dorm room without incident.

When I reached Worcestershire, I found out that my plan to ditch my disguise was thwarted, because the place was closed for the night. That was a problem. Looking up, I could see some scaffolding. Oh, yeah, they were remodeling the roof. Maybe I could somehow get up there...But the scaffolding was out of my reach. Then I remembered that there was a big tree next to the building. I somehow scrambled up the trunk of the tree, and somehow made it up to the first branch. So far, so good. But, there was a ten-foot gap between the tree and the building. How was I supposed to cross it?

That was when it hit me in the face. Literally. Some idiot threw a trash can lid at some other idiot, who actually had the nerve to duck. The lid hit me right in the back of my head, sending me flying right onto the roof of Worcestershire. As I recovered from the pain of being hit in my one and only head, I gave some serious thought to taking my disguise off. It was what I'd come to do, and it sounded like a good idea, so I started taking off my jacket, when a familiar voice came drifting up to me.

"My fellow students, listen to me!" 

It was a voice I knew only too well.

"Milton?"

I edged over to the edge of the building, hiding behind the scaffolding. Sure enough, it was Milton Thacklethwait. He was standing on a car in the midst of a seething mob of students.

"Everyone, stop fighting!" Milton yelled over the roar of the crowd. "If you don't stop, we could all get into very serious trouble! We could get expelled, or worse! Are you willing to risk your entire educational career on a brawl started by a guy who cheated at a sports game?"

Unfortunately, Milton had said just the wrong words to set off the crowd again. They started trying to get to Milton, probably trying to do that "Or Worse" to him. Milton for his part finally realized the danger he was in, and finally stopped talking (For once!).

Well, I couldn't leave Milton to his fate. After all, he and I shared the same opinion as far as Coach Kaz was concerned. Besides, it was kinda my fault he was in this situation. I looked around for something, anything, to distract the crowd. Then I saw a rope coiled around the scaffolding I was hiding behind. The rope looked like it was the right length. I tied one end of the rope _very_ tightly on the edge of the scaffolding, then moved so I was standing on the edge of the building. Of course, I had a lot of second thoughts, but then I'd been having second thoughts since I'd started this little incident.

"Here goes nothing," I said.

And jumped.

I can't begin to describe the feeling of that first jump. The biggest thought in my head was that I was going to die, if not from that first plunge, then from the crowd below. Then the rope reached the end of its length, and I was somehow sailing over the heads in the crowd. I managed to keep what would best be called a one-handed death grip on the rope long enough to reach out with my other hand and snatch Milton from the jaws of doom. For a scrawny little nerd, he sure weighed a ton. I'm surprised I didn't drop him right then and there. I was somehow able to keep a grip on him until we was on the other side of the crowd, then my hands both gave out, and we both fell to the ground. Fortunately, by that point we were only a few feet off the ground, so we landed in an undignified heap.

"Run!" I shouted, before the crowd could figure out what had happened.

And _run_ we did. It was a harrowing race through the back alleys and dark streets of Follicle U, until I couldn't hear any trace of the mob behind us. Then we both slowed down to a stop, trying to catch our breath.

"I-I think we lost 'em," I gasped.

"You saved my life," Milton wheezed. "I thought for sure I was a goner, but you acted like some superhero back there. I can't thank you enough. If there's anything I can do to repay you, just name it."

"Really?" I asked. I suddenly felt less like a guy who was trying to get back at a few basketball players, and more like a hero. And why shouldn't I act like a hero? I suddenly forgot about all the people that wanted to rip me to shreds, all the suffering, and the stupid costume because this one guy had thanked me. Needless to say, it went to my head very quickly.

"Er, heh. Yup, yup, yup. All in a night's work for heroes like me."

That's when we heard sirens in the distance. I decided that this was as good a time as any to get myself out of there. I don't think Milton saw me leave, he was too busy contemplating the concept of the cops' arrival.

"Wow, it sounds like there's a lot of cops out there. I told those guys they were gonna get in trouble-what? Where'd he go?"

I sprinted down a nearby alleyway to the nearest dumpster, quickly doffed my disastrous disguise, then headed for my dorm, and my bed.

It'd been a long night.

The next day, I woke up from a dream about earthquakes to Crash Auburn shaking me.

"Wake up, man! You slept right through it all! You wouldn't believe what happened last night!"

"Let me guess," I croaked groggily. "You've met the girl of your dreams. This would be...What, the fifth one this week?"

"Not this time. Coach Kaz was caught cheating! Some guy revealed it all during last night's game, and everyone went ballistic! There was a massive brawl between the Follicle guys and the Canard people. They brought in the riot police and everything! It was wild!"

"And I suppose you weren't involved? Crash, your academic career could go down the tubes for this."

"How stupid d'you think I am, man? I was only there until the riot police showed up, and I wasn't even in the crowd."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah, I was up on the top of Horter Hall tossing water balloons on everyone."

"Crash, it's a wonder you're still alive. Hey, did they ever find out who the guy that started it all was?"

"Nah, not many people saw him, and I heard he wore a mask, like he was some kind of superhero."

Later that day, I happened to see Milton Thacklethwait and his friends outside the library.

"Hey, Drake!" Milton called, upon seeing me, "Didja hear about what happened last night? Some mysterious guy acted like a comic book hero, and managed to get the basketball coach locked up for cheating! And I'll tell you something else, I actually saw the guy, I even talked to him! I wish more people were honest like that."

"I heard the basketball team's taken out a hitman contract on that guy," one of Milton's nerdy friends said.

"I'd heard it was one of the football players that exposed them," another one remarked.

"My sister says that it was her cousin's friend's boyfriend," a third nerd volunteered.

By this point, I was absolutely itching to set those guys straight. Since they were nerds, and not likely to care about basketball, I tried to subtly push them on the right track.

"You guys, it takes a lot of brains to plan a stunt like that. It couldn't have been an ordinary guy. For all we know, it could've been, er, someone like me."

They all stared at me, then burst out laughing.

"What?" I demanded. "What is so funny about an idea like that?"

"Well, think about it, Drake," Milton said between more laughter. "You're not the athletic type. In fact, you're almost as nerdy as we are! How could a geek like you act like a superhero?"

"I am NOT a nerd," I yelled. "I'm not like you!"

"Of course not," one of the others said. "Unlike us, you couldn't stay awake in class if your life depended on it!"

I stifled the urge to scream the truth at them. At this point, with so many other students walking by that would've made me into a walking target. Or worse, a laughingstock.

"Y-yeah, you're right," I said as I laughed awkwardly. "Well, I'll see you around."

And I walked away. I headed straight for the registry of Majors.

I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

And that's how I became a crime fighter. Partly because Milton and his friends said I couldn't, partly because I had always wanted to be like those guys in my comic books, but mostly for the ego boos...er, I mean the pleasure of thwarting bad guys, and saving people, and having them thank you later. It's things like that which make me happy I chose this path.

Of course, that was just the beginning. I majored in Chemistry and Criminal Law (Which unfortunately became my "Nap Class"). Meanwhile, I worked on getting myself into shape. My training regimen? Proclaiming I'd forgotten a book and running up the stairs to get it. (Of course, there were times when that wasn't a lie.) I also took advantage of my job at the gym to work out in it, along with cleaning it. It was a convenient job.

I suppose you're wondering where the name "Darkwing Duck" came up in the first place. Well, in my senior year at high school, not too long before the prom incident, there was a video game at the arcade called "The Legend of the Dark Word." Not that the game was any good, it was only in the arcade for about a month. Still, the whole gloomy atmosphere of the game looked pretty darn cool to me. 'Course, I didn't want a word-y name. Maybe something else that sounded similar, like Dark Wing. For a spur of the moment name, it worked out pretty well, didn't it?

And that's more or less where the name came from.

I distinctly remember the first time I really tried out my heroic persona. Crash was out dating the latest "Girl-of-my-dreams." I'd taken advantage of Crash's dates to work on a dramatic, yet good-looking costume, similar to the one I'd had that time in high school. It was one of those dark and stormy nights when I finished, and I felt the time was right to see how cool I looked. I was pleasantly surprised to see I looked very cool, indeed. I decided to increase the dramatic-ness by saying something that would make villains cower.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night. I am the dice that comes up on the wrong number...I am Darkwing Duck!"

I suppose those of you that have seen the show can figure out most of what happened between that point and the point where the show started, but just in case, here's the gist of what happened.

I managed to finish college, even taking the seven-year "Super Senior" path. Once I was done with college, I wanted to learn all kinds of ways to beat up bad guys, so I spent the first five years after college traveling the world, looking for more really cool techniques. 'Course, I never stayed with any one teacher too long. Mostly because of my overblown ego...er, I mean, I wanted to become a "Jack of all Trades," if you will. The longest time I stayed with any sort of teacher was that time in Kung Pao learning Quack Fu. 'Course, there was that one move I never mastered, but that's another story. That was also about the time when I decided to drop my whole secret identity as Drake Mallard, and went as Darkwing Duck all day. Not that I was out during the day, for the most part. I usually slept during the days

I didn't exactly spend all of the training years training, though. I sometimes took the occasional case. Most of them were small-timers, though. The only exception to this was a certain power junkie, but at that point I think we were both working on building up reputations.

Meanwhile, my parents finally got fed up with the rising crime rate back in St. Canard. They moved to some city up the coast. What was it called again? Cape Suzie? Cape Mary-Sue? Something like that.

Anyways, I eventually decided I was ready to take on real criminals. I was 30 when I moved back to my hometown. After about a year of figuring thing out, I started my crime-fighting career. I also managed to find the perfect place for a secret base, where I could spend my time looking for criminals (And spend my time off sleeping.) The Audubon Bay Bridge was not only convenient for those times where I had to drive off and find criminals, it was also a place that sounded cool. I mean, the words "Quick, Launchpad, to the tower!" sound more dramatic than "To the old run-down warehouse." See?

I'm sure that the more astute of the people who have watched my show have wondered how I got that big computer in my tower, especially when (As one fan put it once) I couldn't even make the VCR stop flashing 12:00. Well, the answer is simple. I had an old acquaintance by the name of Milton Thacklethwait. Milton, it turned out, works for the very technological Pomegranate Computers. He makes more in a day than I normally see in a year. Anyway, when I was making my secret base, I decided that that would be a good time to call in a favor he owed me. I asked for a high-tech crime-fighting computer, I got it. Along with a letter with the words "Now we're even" on it. So much for living off the rich.

Of course, setting up that computer wasn't exactly a walk in the park. I'm lucky I didn't fry myself a dozen times trying to boot that thing.

Oh, and just in case you wanted to know (Although I sure didn't) Crash Auburn dropped out of college in his junior year, and was promptly snapped up by some professional team. He now makes as much as Milton, still goes through girlfriends like I go through cases, and still doesn't remember my name.

Coach Kaz also hit it big after he got out of jail. Namely by writing memoirs and self-help books. His latest has the charming title of "You Weenie! Stop whining, and get a life already!" Naturally, I've been avoiding those books like the plague. 

I'm sure I know what's going through your head. He's probably jealous because of all that, you say. Well, so what if they make more money than me? I have a job I enjoy, a family who may not be the most pleasant, but they still respect me, up to a point, at least. Ha, I'd like to see Milton or Crash put up with my family for a day. Gosalyn would have them running for the hills! 

Still, I wouldn't mind a six-figure per week income once in a while.

But I'm getting off subject. Anyways, it was after another year or so of taking on small gangs and small time criminals that I finally took on a big time criminal. And with that, I not only got a loyal (Albeit loopy) sidekick, I also adopted a hyperactive, spirited daughter...

And then things really started to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the first story down. I'd forgotten how much I based the fictional college on the real-life one I grew up near, which I'm currently attending. If I ever had to re-do this fic rather than cross-post it, I'd base it a bit more off my experiences, but hey, it was my first fic ever posted. It's funny to look back on it and my later ones and see how far I've come.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm celebrating the end of another semester by cross-posting my first set of fanfictions. There's several reasons for it, but the biggest two are a certain episode of the Ducktales reboot that premiered yesterday, and...let's just say I've been inspired over the last few months by not only a new story idea but actually having the time to write it (I love working in a library.) We'll see if the new story's done by the time I finish cross-posting all the old ones. 
> 
> Anyway, since AO3 has this whole "part of x group" thing, I'm doing what I should have done before and putting the stories up as actual stories instead of wall-of-text chapters. This means dividing the stories into chapters, cleaning up my old writing, and taking out some of the too-obviously dated references, but that's another problem.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story.


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